


Season of the Witch

by firebreathing_bitchqueen



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/F, Found Family, Gen, Halloween, witch weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27318523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firebreathing_bitchqueen/pseuds/firebreathing_bitchqueen
Summary: She may not believe in "witch weather," but even Ava can't help feeling a certain frisson of magic in the air.
Relationships: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Season of the Witch

“It’s a hurricane.”

“It’s _witch weather_.”

“Detective, I can assure you that witches haven’t cornered the market on cold fronts.” Ava’s voice was flat, brooking no nonsense, but what might have been the barest spasm of a grin twitched at the corners of her mouth before she tamped it back down.

“Historically, some witches have been linked with meteorological phenomena —” Nat started helpfully, before a muffled growl cut her off.

“— Oh for Christ’s sake.” Morgan’s voice emerged from the collar of her jacket, which she’d zipped and yanked into a funnel around her chin after sniping about the “fucking cold” half an hour earlier, the volume of her discontent unhampered by the surrounding fabric.

Swallowing a giggle, Petra tilted her face up at the sky and inhaled deeply, a burst of wind sending strands of her dark hair flying where they’d escaped her braid.

“Maybe it’s like Santa Claus: the magic’s real as long as you believe,” she grinned over her shoulder at Ava as they walked. “I believe in witch weather, so the magic exists for me.”

Farah, who’d been meandering slightly behind the group, stopping every few feet to window shop as they wound through Wayhaven’s market district, darted forward, popping up close to Petra’s elbow. “What’s Santa Claus?” She asked, amber eyes glittering.

Petra couldn’t contain her laughter this time as Morgan swore again, the more vicious part blessedly drowned out by the exasperated noise from Ava.

She tilted her head down towards the shorter woman still skipping sidelong next to her and stage-whispered, “I’ll tell you later, when Ava’s not about to eye-roll herself into another dimension.”

Morgan barked out a laugh at that, and Petra looked up in time to see Nat clearly struggling to conceal a smile, the dark-eyed woman’s face not without amusement or kindness as she squeezed her oldest friend’s shoulder.

Ava did not share their merriment, of course, and only sighed heavily. “I don’t think Farah needs any encouragement from you to engage in flights of fancy at my expense.”

Without missing a beat, Petra twirled mid-step to throw what she felt was her most winning smile at Ava, walking backwards so she could look at the blonde vampire while she talked. “Well, she was going to find out sooner or later. Once Halloween’s over, it’s basically time to start setting up for Christmas.” She kept pace backwards, still beaming up at Ava.

Still looking less than mollified, Ava replied, “You know you’re going to break your neck if you keep walking backwards.”

“I think I’m managing,” Petra laughed, but spun around to walk forwards, fairly skipping over a gap in the cobbled streets off the square. To her credit, she didn’t gloat or acknowledge her fluidity of movement, but Ava frowned nonetheless, eyes flickering down to Petra’s feet on the street in front of her reproachfully, as if she’d purposefully chosen _not_ to trip out of sheer, stubborn spite.

Petra kept walking facing forwards for the remainder of the short walk to the cemetery, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Farah, cheerfully chattering away — _like a normal person_ , Ava groused to herself, as if winning an argument with Petra in her head somehow counted the same as if it were aloud. As if keeping a running tally of arguments won and lost with Petra counted for anything at all.

“You’re gonna chip a tooth if you don’t unclench soon,” Morgan muttered from inside her jacket, only just loud enough for Ava’s sharp hearing to catch it.

“Oh, shut up,” Ava shot back under her breath, throwing a dark look at Morgan, who only smirked — _irritatingly_ , Ava thought — in response.

“Thanks again for coming with me, by the way,” Petra said as they reached Wayhaven’s ancient cemetery grounds.

Situated on the far west side of town, just south of Hollow’s Peak, the old cemetery stretched into the dense woods that formed a shadowy enclave around most of the town’s borders, excepting that southernmost tip, which met instead the craggy cliff-side and sea. The old growth forest into which the cemetery (and, indeed, the town itself) had been carved lent an additional twilight layer of eerie, preternatural shade, the trees casting long shadows across the grounds even in a summer high noon. At dusk in October, the cemetery practically loomed out of the wood, weather-worn headstones easily transformed by the mind’s eye into more suspicious figures in the gloom.

They — well, Petra, in any case — had agreed to let Tina be on duty at Wayhaven’s annual Halloween block party tonight, with Petra taking the literal graveyard patrol shift in exchange.

“Bloody ridiculous to have anyone out there tonight, if you ask me,” Tina had said when Petra offered earlier that week, although she had been quick to accept candy over crypts.

“Until we have a new town sexton for it, someone’s got to keep an eye on things, especially on Halloween. Besides,” Petra grinned, “the high school bravehearts will be so disappointed if they don’t stumble across something going bump in the night. I’m only thrilled for it to be me they find.”

“Are you going to protect town property or scare town children?”

“Both? Trick for them, treat for me?”

Petra rubbed her hands together dramatically in imitation of a cartoon villain, and Tina had not been able to contain either her eyeroll or her giggle. “How I ever thought you were a starchy young professional, I’ll never know,” she’d said, looping an arm through Petra’s and turning them both in the direction of Tina’s desk. “Help me pick out a costume if I’m on party duty this year, at least.”

The sound of Ava’s voice drew Petra back to the present. “Accompanying you seems to be the safest option, if you must be out here in the first place,” Ava replied, sounding somewhat preoccupied, her sharp green eyes flickering across the shadowy gloom surrounding them. They reached the cemetery gates and Petra swung her small backpack around to fish out a jangly ring of keys. She flipped through them until she found one attached to a purple puffball of a key chain, holding it up with a triumphant “Ha!” before reaching to unlock the gate.

“Not if I freeze to death,” Morgan grumbled, brushing past Petra as she opened the gate to the cemetery.

“You’re not going to freeze to death,” Ava said disapprovingly, reaching to hold the gate for the rest of them to enter. As she did, her outstretched hand almost brushed Petra’s, who had stayed holding the gate as well, trying to wriggle her key out of it. Ava hadn’t let herself be this close to Petra since the carnival. Now that she found herself once again so near, she remembered why she hadn’t. This close, she could feel Petra’s body heat radiating off her in waves. Could hear the steady thrum of her pulse, the drum of her heart. All those little, profound indicators of her existing here, now, in living, breathing, screaming color. The last time she’d been this close, they’d been watching the fireworks at Hollow’s Peak, quite close, now that Ava thought of it, to where they were again tonight.

“Oh, Ava, look up!” Petra had breathed, sheer, reverent wonder clear in her voice. “Every time I see fireworks, I’m sure I’ve never seen anything so spectacular.” She laughed a little self-consciously. “That probably sounds really dumb.”

“It doesn’t,” Ava had replied, although she hadn’t been able to make herself look at the show. She had, instead, remained focused on the spectacular light she found reflected on Petra’s face. She was confident the lights above them would be a poor imitation of the other woman’s face.

Petra had looked away from the fireworks then, briefly, had shot a grateful, pleased smile up at Ava before her gaze flickered back to the sky above. A moment later, Petra’s fingers had stretched until they had slipped between Ava’s, eyes still fixed on the sky. One slight touch, somewhere between hands brushing and hands held, but it reverberated in Ava’s chest more profoundly than the explosions of sound and color above. She scarcely breathed, didn’t look away from the silhouette of Petra’s upturned face in profile, aglow with the fireworks and an odd, almost-familiar shade of pleasure. Later, Ava would find the word she wanted: triumphant. Petra had looked happy, but, more than that, she had looked triumphant.

Now that she had found herself once again so close, she remembered all too well why she’d stayed away — and why she hadn’t wanted to.

“Ugh, this key.” Petra jiggled the key in question, trying to yank it free of the lock, to no avail.

“Here, let me,” Ava said, and just for a moment, her hand closed over Petra’s around the stuck key. Ava wished she hadn’t noticed the leap in Petra’s pulse, the little intake of breath. She wished her own heart hadn’t thrilled in response.

“Thanks,” Petra said quietly as Ava managed to dislodge the key with a dexterous flick of her wrist, placing the puffball key chain in the detective’s hand.

She almost left her hand in the small cupped warmth of Petra’s, so nearly let herself pause, just for a moment. But, then, with her usual impeccable timing, Farah’s voice broke through the quiet bubble of another almost-moment.

“I’ll keep you warm, Morgan! We can snuggle.” The youngest vampire snaked an arm around Morgan’s waist before the taller woman shoved her off.

And then Nat was turning around to check on their paused progress by the gate, and their almost-moment had clearly well and truly burst.

“Everything all right?”

“Of course,” Ava said quickly, hand snapping back from Petra’s.

“Couldn’t get the key out. “ Petra smiled brightly at Nat, turning away from Ava to move further into the cemetery, shoving the key in question into her jacket pocket as she went. "You coming, Ava?" She called over her shoulder.

Ava, still fixed momentarily at the gate, found she needed to mentally shake herself. "Of course," she replied, already moving to catch up to the rest of her team. As she strode forward, she smoothed an errant lock of pale hair behind her ear that had managed to come loose from her usual sleek bun. The wind must have been stronger than she'd thought.


End file.
